


Hope

by bactaqueen



Category: Marvel Ultimates
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, hope chest, one night on leave, pre-marital sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3212267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bactaqueen/pseuds/bactaqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gail shows Steve the hope chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Recognizable characters belong to their respective owners. No profit is earned and no infringement is intended.
> 
> Author's Note: In WWII, servicemembers ordered hope chests through catalogs for their sweethearts.

Mr. Richards was a tall, slender man with graying red hair. He limped, the result of losing a leg to a German U-boat in the early days of America's involvement in the Great War. Steve liked him. It helped, he thought, to like your future father-in-law. It wouldn't be so bad at all if Mr. Richards wanted to move in with him and Gail when they finally bought that little house on Church Street.

Steve was pretty sure the old man liked him, too, but there was that split-second between when he opened the door and when he smiled that made Steve anxious. He hadn't seemed unhappy when Gail had first taken up with Steve, back when the Army didn't want him. Three years was a long time, though.

His worry dissipated when Mr. Richards gave him a real smile tinged with relief. "Gail, honey, come see who's at the door!" he called over his shoulder before he ever greeted Steve. He waved him in and shut the door behind him, and before Gail joined them, he thumped him soundly on the back and said, "Now this is a nice surprise. How've you been, son? Or should I call you Captain?"

Steve set his bag on the floor near the wall and shook the man's hand. "I'm good, sir. You're looking well."

"Surrounded by gorgeous girls all the time will do that for a fella." Mr. Richards winked.

Steve laughed. Mr. Richards supervised a third-shift crew of women welders at the Navy Yard. "I bet it does," he agreed.

Gail chose then to appear at the end of the little hall. Steve's tongue got thick and lazy in his mouth and he felt light-headed when he saw her. He'd kept the picture of her inside the breast pocket of his uniform, but a photo couldn't compare to the real thing. She was beautiful. Even standing there barefoot in a simple buttoned dress and half a ragged old apron and drying her hands on a threadbare dishtowel, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

"Who's so important that--" Her green eyes widened and the color drained from her face. "Steve," she breathed.

He smiled tentatively. This visit hadn't been a sure thing, so he hadn't written or wired her or even called to let her know. He'd have to leave late to catch his flight back to London. Getting her hopes up only to have them dashed by the Army had seemed worse than not telling her it was a possibility. He'd been hopeful enough for the both of them. He'd wanted so badly to see her.

He'd missed her so much.

"Hi, Gail. You look swell."

She scowled at him and reached up to pat self-consciously at her hair, red and beautiful and curled around her pretty face. "You could have told me you were coming, you know."

Mr. Richards laughed and shoved Steve toward Gail.

Steve stumbled over his own feet, feeling hot-faced and like his limbs belonged to someone else all over again. He righted himself and tried to explain, "I wasn't sure..."

Gail tipped her chin forward, sticking her pert little nose in the air. "Dinner will be ready soon.You want a drink? You know where the liquor cabinet is. Make one for Dad, too."

Mr. Richards barked a laugh. "Is that any way to greet your sweetheart, Gail?"

Steve's face went hot again and he ducked his head. He should have told her. "She's right to be mad, sir--"

"Oh, shut _up_." Gail threw her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face to his neck. "I was just trying to spare the old man's delicate sensibilities," she mumbled against him.

A jolt of electricity shot down Steve's spine. He wrapped his arms around her and ducked to press his face to her hair. He'd forgotten how good she felt in his arms.

Mr. Richards scoffed as he edged past them. " _Delicate sensibilities._ Like I'm some old _spinster_!" He disappeared around the corner, leaving Steve and Gail to themselves for the moment with the illusion of privacy.

Gail leaned back. Her eyes shimmered. "Damn you. I've been so worried about you."

Steve gathered her closer and kissed her temple. "I'm all right, I promise."

"If you'd just listened to me--"

Steve covered her mouth with his own to silence her. It was an old fight, and over the last three years he'd realized she was right (of course she was right), but it was too late now. He couldn't turn back time and he wouldn't have changed anything even if he could.

She swayed into him and tightened her arms around him. Her lips were soft and her breath was sweet and her tongue brushed his. Steve crushed her closer and bent over her, kissed her for all the times he'd wanted to in the last three years, kissed her for all the times he wouldn't be able to until the damned war was over. When it was over, he promised himself he'd kiss her like this every chance he got.

Gail broke the kiss, pulling away just enough for him to see that she was breathless and red-cheeked and bright-eyed. She planted her hands on his chest and pushed at him. "I'm still mad, Steve."

He kissed her cheek. "I know."

She pressed in again for another hug. "I'm so glad to see you."

He kissed her temple and breathed in the scent of her hair. She didn't use perfumed shampoo or water, so it was just her, warm and clean. "Me, too, sweetheart."

She slipped out of his arms, catching one of his hands in both of hers. "Come on. I made Salisbury steak. Mom's recipe. Did you go see your mom?"

Steve smiled. "That's where I was before. Doug got big."

Gail laughed. "You should see him play ball!"

***

Steve had missed family dinner almost as much as he'd missed Gail. He'd had lunch with his parents and Doug and spent the afternoon catching up, but early evening had always been his favorite part of the day, and dinner had always been his favorite meal. Sitting with family--and they were family, Gail his bride-to-be and Mr. Richards his future father-in-law--talking and smiling and laughing and even bickering over home-cooked food was one of the best reasons he could think of to fight. He wanted this forever. Gail hooked her foot around his ankle under the table and Steve found himself gazing at her during every lull in the conversation. He'd missed his Mom and Doug, but living without Gail was...

He never wanted to do it again.

When his plate was scraped clean, Mr. Richards pushed away from the table and dropped his napkin beside his water glass. "I have to go," he said.

Steve stood as he did, frowning. He'd dreaded this part, because what he wanted wasn't at all proper. "Sir--"

Mr. Richards gave him a fond look. "It was good to see you, Steve. You stay as long as you can." He glanced at Gail and smiled at her, a father's smile. "It'll be good for both of you."

Relief loosened Steve's spine. He stuck his hand out. "Thank you, sir."

"Thank you, son. Take care of yourself over there, you hear?" He squeezed Steve's hand in both of his own and winked again. "I'd like to be a grandfather nine months after next October."

Steve blushed and Gail snapped, "Dad!"

But Mr. Richards just laughed. "Good night, Steve." He dropped Steve's hand and went around the table to Gail. He bent to kiss the top of her head and squeeze her shoulder gently. "Good night, baby girl. Don't forget to leave the light on this time."

"I won't, Dad." Gail smiled up at him and patted his hand. "Try not to fall down any stairs tonight."

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Yeah, yeah."

Steve waited until Mr. Richards had left the room before he sat back down. They waited in silence until the front door had shut and they couldn't hear the old man's thumping walk in the hallway anymore. Steve looked at Gail.

She was already gathering up the dinner dishes. "Looks like you're on KP tonight, soldier."

He laughed. "Yes, ma'am."

***

While she finished putting the dishes away, he went into the living room and fixed them whiskeys with water. He was putting the decanter back when she sidled up behind him and slid her arms around his waist. She laid her cheek against his shoulder and toyed with the end of his tie and sighed.

"I'm glad you're here, Steve."

He left the drinks to turn in her arms and pull her closer. He rested his cheek on the top of her head and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you ahead of time."

Her fingers curled in his shirt at the small of his back. "I understand." She nuzzled at the hollow of his throat, where he'd already loosened his tie and opened the top few buttons. "I miss you."

He tightened his hold on her. "I miss you, too. But I'll be home soon. For good."

"You will if you know what's good for you." She pulled away to pick up the drinks. "Come on. Let's go to my room." She started off toward the short hall that led to the bedrooms and the apartment's only bathroom.

Steve hesitated. "Honey..."

Gail looked over her shoulder at him. " _Steve_."

He ducked his head. "Yeah, all right."

She just smiled and led the way to her little bedroom.

As soon as he stepped through the door, he saw immediately why she'd brought him. He grinned so wide it hurt.

"You got it!"

Gail grinned back at him. She left the drinks on her nightstand and grabbed his hands to pull him deeper into the room. She shoved him down on the edge of the bed, close to the foot and the new hope chest. She leaned over him, cupping his face in her hands, and she was still smiling when she brushed her lips to his.

"It's wonderful. Thank you." She rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks.

He squeezed her elbows. "You could have mentioned it in one of your letters."

She laughed at him, twisting away from him. "I wanted to surprise you." She settled on the floor in front of it, her long legs tucked up beneath her. "Do you want to see?"

His heart climbed into his throat. "Is it full?"

"Almost." She raised the lid and leaned in. "I found some stuff that was Mom's that Dad said I could have, and I've spent a little every paycheck from the newspaper. Your mother gave me some things..." She surfaced, her face a little flushed and her eyes shining with nervous pleasure. She held up her prize, a small cotton shirt with a wide collar, yellowed slightly with age but otherwise in good shape. Tiny yellow bees looked newly-embroidered on the collar.

Steve laughed. "Is that mine?"

Gail's grin brightened. "I added the bees. There are shorts, too--" She handed the shirt off to him and dived back into the chest.

Steve rubbed his thumb over one of the bees and smiled a little wistfully. Gail wasn't much for sewing, so the bees were inexpertly done, but he thought it was probably the most beautiful embroidery he'd ever seen.

She handed him the matching shorts. "Your mother said it was your favorite right after you learned to walk. She thought I might like it for..." She trailed off, looking a little embarrassed.

Tears pricked hot behind his eyes but he fought them down. "I can't believe she saved it."

Gail's eyes were bright and her expression was fond. "Don't be silly, of course she did. Mothers always save _something_."

Steve set the little shortset on the bed. "What else have you got?"

"A lot." Gail ducked back into the chest. "Tablecloths, towels, sheets, curtains..." Each item came out of the chest, into his lap, as she listed it. The tablecloths were old, gently worn linen with new uneven lines of embroidery on the edges. The towels and sheets were new, but the curtains were old.

"Have you been raiding the antiques shops?" he teased.

She flashed him a smile over the top of the hope chest lid. "All the girls at work are ordering their stuff out of catalogs or going to Macy's. I'm getting all the best deals."

He laughed.

Gail leaned back into the chest. "Look at this!" She removed a large silver platter. It gleamed in the light from her lamp, clean and polished. "It's a whole silver tea service! There was this shop--"

Steve couldn't help the frown. "Gail..."

She set her jaw. "Don't you dare tell me I ought to donate it, Steven Rogers. I found it and I'm keeping it. I always wanted a silver tea service. I already gave them _you_ , they don't get this, too."

He couldn't fault her logic, so he swallowed down his argument and said, "All right."

"Damn right, _all right_." She leaned back into the chest and hesitated.

Steve set the linens aside gently. "What is it?" He edged forward, trying to see over the top of the chest, to see what had arrested her.

Gail let out a puff of breath. "Yes, I think I've decided to show you."

"Show me what?"

"Close your eyes."

He gave it only a moment's consideration before he shut his eyes. He listened to her stand up and step away. The risk was worth it, he decided, and cracked an eye open.

She was looking over her shoulder at him. Whatever she had in her hands was hidden in front of her. She smirked at him and _tsk_ ed. "No peeking, Steve. It's a _surprise_."

Even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't fight the smile. He closed his eyes and waited.

There was the sound of rustling fabric and then she was close. He didn't need to see her to know she was biting at the inside corner of her mouth just before she spoke.

"All right, you can look now."

When he opened his eyes, his breath caught in his chest and his heart seized up.

It was old-fashioned, an ivory dress with a dropped waist and loose sleeves that skimmed her ankles unfashionably. It was creased and winkled from twenty years or more spent in storage, but the seed pearls sewn into the hem of the top layer gleamed with a dull sheen. Gail fingered the sash tied loosely at her waist and watched him closely.

Steve swallowed. "Was that your mother's?"

She looked down at the dress and brushed her fingers over the wrinkled silk. She blinked a few times, quelling tears he knew had to be rising, then she looked up. "I know a girl who can fix it for me. She's going to bring the hem up and fix the sleeves and--" She exhaled and tried to smile. "What do you think?"

His heart hurt, that's what he thought. He said, "Isn't it bad luck for me to see it before the wedding?"

She laughed. "It will barely be the same dress the next time you see it."

Steve reached for her. Gail pulled the skirt up over her knees and climbed onto his lap. He ran his hands up and down her back, feeling the warmth of her through the dress, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

"You look beautiful, Gail."

She pushed shyly at his shoulders. She seemed uncertain of herself, and that was so unlike her, when she asked, "Do you really like it?"

He kissed her lightly. "Whatever you want to wear is perfect, sweetheart, but I think this is just right. I'm sorry she can't be there."

She ran her hands from his shoulders to his elbows and back, then wrapped her arms around his neck. She leaned in a little, settling herself more comfortably on his lap. "Dad says she'd be proud of me."

"He's right." He dug his fingers lightly into the small of her back and he lifted a hand to brush her hair from her face. He rubbed his thumb lightly over her cheek. "I'm proud of you, too.".

She smirked. "Why? For finally seeing what was in front of me all along?"

"I've been yours since high school, honey, it just took muscles and a commission for you to finally pay attention to me."

That made her laugh. She pressed closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, sliding her fingers up into his hair. "I miss you, you know," she said quietly.

He nodded. "I miss you, too."

"I worry about you, you know."

"I know."

Gail buried her face against his neck. "Sometimes it's more than I can take, Steve. Please don't do anything stupid when you go back? Please?"

"I won't," he promised, and he knew she knew he was lying, but it was harmless enough. He slid his hand up her back and pushed the other fingers into her hair, pulling her closer.

She started to say his name, but he interrupted her.

"Let's not talk right now."

For a while they didn't. He kissed her and held her close, and when she whimpered quiet and needy into his mouth, he slipped his hand between them, beneath her skirt. He kneaded her thigh between the top of the stocking and the edge of her drawers, where her skin was hot and soft. He'd missed her so much. Missed the smell of her and the taste of her and the feel of her. He pulled her closer and pushed his fingers just a little higher.

Gail gasped, breaking the kiss. She pushed her hips forward, urging his hand up, and she kissed over his cheek to the shell of his ear. Steve pressed his face against her neck as he eased his fingers into her drawers. She was soft and so wet and so hot he nearly groaned. He touched her gently, spreading her open, teasing her until she rocked against his hand and hissed his name into his ear.

"It's all right." He turned his face, caught her lips. "I've got you. Come on." He moved his fingers a little faster.

Gail shifted away. She started tearing at the buttons of his shirt, started yanking it out of his pants. "No, no. Please, Steve. I want _you_."

He tried to take a steadying breath when she got his shirt down his arms and she scraped her nails against his belly trying to get his undershirt up. "Honey--"

"Don't." Her eyes flashed when he met them. The flush on her cheeks was high and her eyes were bright with more than just arousal. He'd seen that desperation too much lately. "Don't tell me no, Steve, please."

It had been three years. They were so stupid before--he'd worried for nearly a year when he'd first left. He didn't want that again. He'd never say it and knew she wouldn't, either, but there was always the chance he wouldn't-- And where would she be then? But she was kissing him, pushing at his shirt, sliding her hands warm and sure beneath his undershirt, and his resolve wavered, weakened, fell away. He kissed her once, holding her face in both of his hands, and then he pulled away to finish shoving the uniform shirt off of his arms, to strip the undershirt over his head. He didn't want to tell her no. He wanted to give her this, wanted to take it for himself.

He'd learned the hard way how precious good memories could be.

Gail yanked open his belt and opened the buttons of his pants. He put his fingers back into her hair, slid them down her neck. He couldn't find any buttons, any tiny catches holding the dress shut. Frustrated, he reached down and pulled the whole thing off of her.

They gasped together when she wrapped her hands around him. She sank into another kiss, stroking him with both hands, twisting a little on the way up. He freed her breasts from her brassiere and the top of her slip, curved his hands over them and teased her nipples with his thumbs.

Her mouth fell open and she made a tiny needy sound, mumbling, "I miss you, God, I miss you."

He bit her bottom lip and dropped a hand to her hip. He urged her up, urged her closer. It was all she needed, because she set a hand on his bare shoulder and used the other to guide him, and then she was sinking onto him, warm and slick and perfect.

She gasped again. He fought through the haze of need and want and surging affection inside his brain to find the words he needed.

"Did I hurt you?" he murmured.

She wound her arms around his neck, gripped his hair, and pulled him into a kiss. "Shut up and make love to me."

He could do that. Maybe he couldn't take orders, but he could take hers. He wrapped one arm around her and left the other hand in her hair, and he let her move just the way she wanted while he kissed her and dug his fingers into her side and told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. She threw her head back and he kissed down her neck, kissed across the tops of her breasts and down until he could take one rosy nipple into his mouth. She bowed her head over his once more and kissed the shell of his ear and when she tightened hard around him, she nearly sobbed with relief. He followed her over that edge, spilling hot into her body.

Whatever happened, he thought dazedly as he fell back across the bed, he'd take care of her. She was still in his arms and that was what mattered. He didn't want to let her go. He kissed her hair and her temple and her cheek and her lips, and he didn't shift her off of him or pull away from her.

If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never get enough of her.

She nuzzled the side of his neck and kissed his jaw. "You're wrinkling my dress."

He barked a breathless laugh. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you." She smiled against his cheek. "What are you going to wear?"

Smiling, he laid his head back. He ran his hand up and down her back. "I thought I'd get a nice suit."

"Not your uniform?" She plucked at the waist of the pants he was still wearing.

He snorted. "I've had enough of olive drab to last me a lifetime."

She chuckled. She leaned in and kissed him, teased, "What about the _other_ uniform?"

Steve really laughed then. When he looked at her, her eyes were dancing and she was still smiling at him. He _loved_ this woman.

"I'm not wearing the Captain America costume to our wedding."

Gail trailed her fingers over his collarbone and her smile turned impish. "Did you bring it? Can I see it?"

He lifted his head to kiss her. "You really want to see it?"

She nodded shyly.

"It's in my bag in the front hall."

With one last kiss, she rolled off of him. "Go get it." She tugged her slip back up over her breasts and ran her fingers through her hair, smoothing it out of her face.

He pushed himself up on one elbow and reached for her. He slid his fingers into her hair, mussing it back up, and he pulled her in for a slow, lingering kiss. She was smiling, sweet and dazed, when he pulled away.

He slid off the bed. "I'll go change in the bathroom." He hitched his pants up, wondering at the picture he made. Not as pretty as her, that was for sure.

"You'll do no such thing. You come right back here and let me watch."

Laughing, he protested, "But I didn't get to watch you!"

She sniffed at him. "I'm a lady, Mr. Rogers. I have to save _something_ for our wedding night."

Steve stood there staring at her, smiling serenely at him and looking so regal, so relaxed and happy and beautiful, and his heart felt so full it could burst. He crossed the room in two steps and leaned over her again to cup the back of her head, to kiss her with everything he felt in that moment.

"I can't wait to call you Mrs. Rogers," he murmured against her lips.

"Soon." She pulled away and pushed at his chest. "Go on. We haven't got all night, I know, but we've got a little more time."

Steve brushed his fingers down her cheek. "I love you."

Gail grinned at him. "I know you do."

 


End file.
